Caution: this thread is intended for a mature audience only. Starting with reply #7, this thread portrays the kidnapping and torture of a 13 year old child.

The majority of it was written long before MRO's violence rating of T was discussedimplemented or enforced, and the events herein are an important part of these character's histories, therefore, the mods are not asking that it be rewritten.
-----------------------

“Have any new cats come in lately?”

“Cats?” Lisa peered over her immaculately polished desk at the young blonde with her stack of hand drawn missing cat posters. She had seen this girl once before and remembered that she was a friend of Abyss'.

Katrina nodded, “Any kinds of cats. Strays, pets, talking cats?” She raised her eyebrows questioningly to see if any of that was ringing a bell.

The secretary merely pursed her reddened lips, raising one eyebrow of her own.

“Okay. Well, could you please hang up one of these posters where people will see it?” She handed one of her posters over for inspection. Lisa took the paper with a well manicured hand and examined the drawings. There were two cats on it: a ginger colored one with blue eyes and a white one with black spots here and there both under a title that said “Missing”.

“I'll see what I can do,” came the curt response from the secretary and she dropped the paper into her inbox, letting it float gently down the last few inches. It was accompanied by a sickly sweet smile.

Katrina was unsure how to respond, “Thank you.” It almost sounded like a question. “Umm, bye then.” She waved as she walked back out the golden doors once again.

Five minutes later Katrina was on her way to Central Park and Lisa used a piece of scotch tape to attach the little poster to the front of her desk, where it hung exactly straight and exactly in the center.

--
Earlier

The two week marker had come and gone and still there was no sign of Calley. No one even seemed to be worried anymore, except for Katrina. Well, and Slate hadn't been able to find him either. It almost seemed as though everyone had written him off as one of those students who had just wandered away. Why was it that the mansion barely noticed when people disappeared? Did new people fill up the ranks so quickly that the old ones were forgotten so easily?

It was time to take matters into her own hands. She would just have to go out and look for him and when she found him, she'd drag him back home by the scruff of whatever neck he was currently wearing.

Calley had left her only one clue, a note on her bed that said he'd be “catting around town”. A fine excuse for a few days break, but not one for such a long period of time. Wherever he had wandered off to for over two weeks she was sure he had paws, claws, fur and a liking for milk.

Armed with her homemade posters, her cell phone, all the allowance she had saved up, a roll of masking tape, and enough invisibility to get out past the gate without anyone seeing her she set off on a cat-hunt. She stopped at Ghost's door on the way out to see if she wanted to go, but no one was home. Probably she was at the bookstore trying to change the world one little shop at a time. Which left Katrina to go alone. There wasn't anyone else who seemed worried enough to go looking for a stray.

Now all she had to figure out was where Calley was likely to go. He might go to the zoo, but not for such a long period of time. She'd seen their tigers, he would get bored after about five minutes of hanging out with them. Being in a cage wasn't really his style anyway. The Sanctuary would provide him with a free roof if he needed it and he was friends with Abyss just like she was, so he might go there. It was worth an inquiry at the desk at least. After that, though, she wasn't sure where he would want to go.

Maybe the answer wasn't where Calley would go, but where a cat would go. Cats liked to roam around, it seemed. They were just as likely to be sleeping in a tree at the park as they were to be stalking mice in an alley way somewhere, which meant that he could literally be anywhere in the city.

“First a stop at the Sanctuary, then we'll go to the park,” she told the cab driver. After that she wasn't sure. Hopefully she would have found him by then.

--
Later

Hopefully the park would be luckier than the Sanctuary had been. Katrina exited the cab and paid her fare then wandered down one of the pathways into the park. Every tree she went under, she peered up into the branches to see if any cat eyes peered back down at her.

After what must have been the hundredth tree, she sighed. So far all she had found was a couple of angry squirrels, a frightened rabbit, and a guy sleeping on a bench. There were no signs that Calley had ever been here, let alone recently.

Sigh and sigh again.

I'm walking on sunshine , wooah
I'm walking on sunshine, woooah
I'm walking on sunshine, woooah
and don't it feel good!!

The unexpectedly upbeat lyrics resonated lightly throughout the crowded city streets, turning heads and garnering a well of attention from those passing by during their midday lunch break. For those special few who possessed either considerable height or a close proximity to the source of the cheerful aria emanating from a miniature boom box they would no doubt be able to spot an enigmatic figure clad in a sports suit which was itself an eye catching mixture of ivory and crimson with the words “Coca Cola” emblazoned across both the back and breast of the jacket. The ensemble was completed by a scarlet hat, bearing the same logo as the jacket, was perched somewhat jauntily across individual’s cranium as his head beat back and forth in time with the merry melody and the alabaster running shoes which encased his feet darted to and fro, allowing the man to hop, spin, slide and even moonwalk his way through the gradually increasing crowd with a smile across his face.

Slung over the abstruse characters left shoulder was an ashen oblong of modest size crafted from one of the many special polymers designed to reflect heat from the outside and maintain the lower temperature of the containers contents. It was in short, a cooler, one which was utterly lacking any and all identifying markings but which appeared to hold a rather impressive quantity of frosted glass coca cola bottles if the rate at which the stranger dispensed the carbonated drinks was any indication.

‘Ah the consumerist culture, what a marvel of modern capitalism; no one is ever satisfied these days they must always have more and even if they do not what precisely it is they desire they shall constantly seek it. Such behaviour has helped fueled the fickle economy by increasing the amount of tender flowing from one entity to another, however it has also facilitated the development the pure nature behind the capitalist model, namely, greed. It is a rather beneficial side effect and one which I intend to exploit fully, after all no one says no to a freebee do they?’

The denizens of the city were indeed loathe to refuse the caffeine enriched libations, although a good many of them were somewhat puzzled by the strangely generous behaviour. One glance at the strangers apparel however was often enough to dispel any suspicion and the precious few who did work up the energy to question the charitable gesture were happily informed that no, there was no catch and that Coca Cola simply wished to brighten people’s day.

‘Such utter drivel, the fact that these sheep devour it so willingly merely vindicates my actions’

Indeed there was more to Hull’s odd behaviour then pure benevolence, in fact had any of the ignorant pedestrians been at all familiar with the former soldier’s emblematic nature then, well, likely the primary reaction would have been hysteria and blind panic as the city’s citizens attempted to flee. Sadly though the sinister traveler had yet to achieve the appropriate level of notoriety required to inspire such a mass exodus on site, so instead the malevolent murderer utilized his anonymity to his advantage; distributing his own special blend of sweetened libations which included a secret ingredient he had obtained from a little place entitled King Pharmaceuticals only a few days prior.

Thallium; the poisoner’s poison. An absolutely inspiring element which the twisted killer viewed as the universes means of validating his own existence. The virulent chemical was highly lethal in small doses, possessed an incubation time of roughly twelve hours, was odorless, colourless and tasteless when dissolved within a liquid making it virtually undetectable when mixed in with, say, a soft drink. All in all it was perfect and the malicious killer could hardly wait to read the headlines in the morning papers over the next few days as afflicted individuals began to lose their hair, health and ultimately, life.

The lunch hour soon dawned to a close however and the streets lost their numbers as the inhabitants of the metropolis gradually returned to their places of work or residence and resumed whatever activities would consume the rest of their day. Upon finding himself without a crowd with which to dispense his wares the sadistic wanderer casually began to distance himself from the urban sprawl and towards central park, perhaps if he was lucky he’d come across a family or two enjoying a picnic or some other quaint little activity of no real consequence. The ex soldier always experienced a brief tinge of satisfaction whenever he managed to inhume an entire line, it was akin to setting a final puzzle piece in its place, the feeling of completeness and accomplishment accompanying the knowing that he had written the final chapter for such a lackluster lineage.

Upon finally arriving at his destination the demented wanderer found a sinister grin creeping across his features as his emerald gaze swept across the viridian blades of grass and caught site of multiple party’s basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Mothers, lovers, loners… a veritable plethora of unwitting victims, each waiting for the sweet sugary taste of death, but how to choose the fist target? Should he go with the mother daughter duo to his left or the passionate pair off to the right who seemed quite enthused with checking each others tonsils. Decisions, decisions, if only he had a coin with which to solve this troublesome predicament, such a pity, he’d simply have to do what came naturally.

Whistling a cheery tune the deranged traveler powered up his boom box once again before reattaching it to the Velcro strap on his free shoulder and turning to his left as his feet once more began to dart and dance, drawing smiles and laughter from some and perplexed expressions from others.

A short while later the sadistic slaughterer’s meandering course caused him to come across a somewhat curious sight. A blonde adolescent garbed in a pale yellow sundress which stretched to just below her knees and white open toed sandals which proudly displayed a pair of bare pink feet. In the child’s hands was an unruly collection of what appeared to be posters tucked under one arm and a roll of masking tape clutched firmly in her hand as she wondered from tree and gazed intently into the branches of each as though searching for some secrete hoard of fruit within the brown boughs. Judging from the girl’s expression and the number of dowdy poster adoring the surrounding trees however it was apparent that, thus far at least, her hunt had been largely unsuccessful. This in itself was not surprising, hundreds of pets were lost in the urban jungle each year, many of which were never seen again, indeed the odds of finding a domestic pet if it escaped it’s sheltered environment were exceedingly slim, verily one could almost call the child’s parents cruel for allowing her to cling to what little hope she…

‘Wait, what parents?’

The psychotic anarchist paused, hastily hiding the action by crouching down and retying his shoes as his viridian gaze swiftly swept the park, taking in all those present as he rapidly attempted to determine whether anyone were attached to the almost idyllic gamine no more than a few feet away. He himself was attracting a good deal of attention and thus there were a good few looks directed his way, however no one gave a glance to the girl in the yellow sundress, in short no one seemed to care. It was an injustice, Hull decided, for a minor to be left unsupervised in such a manner; children these days needed guidance, discipline and above all tender loving care, fortuitously the former soldier possessed each of these in spades… and the spades as well if it came to that, and it usually did.


Again adopting an artificial affectation of affability Hull assumed an idle walk as he approached the blonde haired child beneath the trees, casually placing his hand into the cooler at his right and withdrawing yet another chilled bottle of thallium enriched syrup which was cheerfully offered to the unwitting child.

“Hello there, are you here by yourself?”

Katrina neck was becoming sore from craning it upwards toward the topmost limbs of the park's trees. She was beginning to lose hope altogether that she could find her friend. It was a shame that he didn't have a cell phone or something else with which she could contact him.

The young illusionist lowered her ashen gaze from the sun dappled oak leaves when she heard the approach of a rather boisterous melody approaching and her eyes were immediately assaulted by the vivid scarlet raiments of a young man with a boom box on one shoulder and a cooler on the other. She couldn't help but think that it must be difficult to travel with all that.

>>>“Hello there, are you here by yourself?”

She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. His eyes were striking, especially in contrast to his outfit. In the early spring when the leaves had unfurled themselves to greet their first ray of sunlight, when the budding foliage still formed a translucent lime haze around the treetop rather than the dark and dense mass that adorned summer branches, perhaps then the leaves she had just been staring at had been as green as his eyes, but she doubted it.

His eyes were crinkled at the corners and his mouth turned upwards at the corners, combining to form a pleasant and friendly expression. He was holding something out to her, the logo on the bottle white swirls on red. Coca Cola. It matched the logo on his jacket and his hat.

Katrina narrowed her eyes and ignored his question, instead asking one of her own.

“You work for Coca Cola? Don't you know what that company does?” Then, in case he didn't know, she elaborated. “They benefit from hazardous child labor in the sugar cane fields in El Salvador, they steal the ground water from villages in India and give the farmers toxic sludge to use as fertilizer in return, and they arranged to have union leaders murdered in Columbia.” Katrina did a Geography report on Coca Cola that Spring. Her teacher would have been proud to hear that she had remembered all of that.

In short, no, she did not want the free bottle of the syrupy sweet, brown, bubbly beverage.

*Blink*

…

“Wordy little thing aren’t you?” The words were uttered in a slightly perplexed tone from behind furrowed brows and a somewhat uncertain expression. It was not often that Hull found himself at a loss but when such an occasion arose the serial killer typically failed to react well; after all no one enjoys looking appearing foolish or unknowledgeable and that is especially true of the mentally unstable, however in this particular instance the twisted traveler was well and truly surprised by the adolescents waspish response. The sadistic slaughterer had possessed no inkling that the multinational conglomerate emblazoned across his flamboyant attire was engaged in such ignominious business, to be perfectly honest he didn’t really care, if anything it only served to improve his opinion of the world renowned corporation; granting him a warm sense of satisfaction to know that there others engaging in work similar to his own.

Although this new insight into coca cola’s operations deserved some degree of reflection the malicious anarchist found himself unable to tear his thoughts away from one fundamental aspect of the innocuous ingénue’s retort. An almost unspeakable phenomenon which shook the sinister wanderer down to his very core and struck the very foundations of one of his fondest childhood recollections. It was a development the Canadian killer was still having difficulty stomaching even a few seconds after his mind processed the distasteful fact and was likely the key reason the child hadn’t received some retaliatory measure.

‘…she doesn’t like coca cola.’

The thought was utterly abhorrent the malevolent machinator, as his chaotic consciousness repeatedly attempted to process the thought. How could one not enjoy the sickly saccharine nectar which was fit for the gods themselves? What fault could be found with the aerated atramentous product which had been the centerpiece to so many of the slaughterers fondest adolescent reminiscences before he had discovered the joy’s of alcohol? The notion was simply unnatural, obscene even and it was one which required a special blend of psychology and violence, preferably more of the latter than the former but the deranged traveler was willing to go with the flow and see what things led to.

Shifting his protean features the malicious murderer adopted a slight disgruntlement countenance as he sighed and crouched down to the child’s level in an effort level the mental playing field, sighing as he did so. “Look kid, I’m just trying to do my job so I can get something to eat at the end of the day, there’s not a lot of places I can work and this is one of the better one’s. Besides Coke ain’t the only one with a few shady dealings, I’ll bet you $10 that you’re sandals were made in some Asian sweatshop and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about those.”

Again altering his features the sadistic wanderer affirmed a genial expression as a benign smile overtook his lips and he nonchalantly balanced the elbow of his one free arm atop his knees, idly gesturing towards the bundle in the gamines slim arms. “However that is neither here or there, you avoided my question; are you here alone and furthermore what are looking for?”

>>>“Wordy little thing aren’t you?”

There was a slow blink that preceded that utterance, and furrowed brows that followed. She seemed to have caught him off guard. The proffered bottle still hung expectantly in his fingers as droplets of condensation fell onto the pathway and disappointed comprehension dawned slowly across his visage.

Katrina tapped her sandaled foot impatiently while she waited for him to work everything out in his head before he bent down to regard her face to face. His countenance was still friendly, albeit somewhat vexed. She almost expected him to put a hand on her shoulder in a gesture similar to an elder sibling imparting wisdom upon their less worldly blood relative, but he didn't, luckily. She hated being talked down to, and that fake gesture of kinship would only have made it more patronizing.

>>>“Look kid, I’m just trying to do my job so I can get something to eat at the end of the day, there’s not a lot of places I can work and this is one of the better one’s. Besides Coke ain’t the only one with a few shady dealings, I’ll bet you $10 that you’re sandals were made in some Asian sweatshop and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about those.”

Katrina frowned at him defiantly meeting his emerald eyes with her own steely gaze, but didn't look down at her shoes to check and see where they were from. She supposed it didn't much make a difference now if she stopped wearing them; they were already made, shipped, and sold. Her actual wearing of this particular pair of summery foot gear would make little difference to her contemporaries in other countries.

“If you need money so desperately, you shouldn't gamble.” Something about his made her feel like smarting off. She knew he probably didn't really mean to bet real money against someone a decade his junior that he'd only just met, if you could even say they had met when they hadn't even introduced themselves, but she didn't care. His cocky attitude begged for sarcastic responses.

And because it seemed to bother him that she had done it once, she avoided his question a second time.

“My cats,” she said answering his last question first, “are neither here nor there. They are, in fact, lost and I am looking for them.” She pulled out one of the posters and held it out so he could see the drawings and the text that adorned the paper. She didn't expect that he would take it, but she didn't particularly care either way. He was getting annoying and she had work to do.

Intense viridian orbs clashed with irritated ashen eyes as the deranged killer and impudent ingenue engaged in a silent staring contest, the latter impaitently tapping her foot and likely would have crossed her arms had her hands not been so over burdened while the former remained crouched, the glass container of toxic libation still cluthed firmly in one hand while the other came up to grasp his chin contemplatively.

'I should grow goatee,' The caprice materialized from one of the obscure corners of the twisted travelers mind even as another train of thought remained tightly focused upon his previous notion of violence and punishment. 'I really think I could pull it off, not like those brain addled meatbags from generation X.’ Running the pad of his thumb over his bare chin the malevolent wanderer narrowed his gaze ever so slightly as a frown shot across the guileless gamines features in response to his quip of sandals and sweatshops. As with any and all children her age the audacious adolescent was incredibly egostistical and thus getting under her skin was no real challenge, indeed it was almost pathetically easy, and while perhaps on a different day the sinister slaughterer would possibly find mild amusement in methodically destroying the gamines social decorum his current intentions were far more malicious. In order for things to progress however he needed to gain the child’s trust, at least temporarily.

'Then again they are rather cliché, I'd only be pandering to the popular prejudice of diabolical mastermind.’

“If you need money so desperately, you shouldn't gamble.”[/color]

There it was again, that insolent tone which so clearly communicated an utter lack of respect for one's elders. Has this asinine adolescent never been taught any form of social etiquette? Children were meant to speak and act courteously at all times... they also weren't meant to talk to strangers but that was besides the point. Even basic common sense would have sufficed in this particular instance e.g. you don't piss off someone twice your size, not unless you're really fast or have big friends nearby. From what the malicious murderer could see though the witless gamine possessed neither large acquaintances nor impressive speed if her choice of footwear were any indication. The bundles in her arm likewise would only serve to slow her down and even if she were to abandon her burden the action would still cost her a valuable second or so.

'On the other hand the negative connotations are rather outdated, not to mention trite, no one these days would expect any self respective criminal to wander around with goatee, so it could potentially work in my favour.'

"It ain't gambling when you know you're right." Hull offered a cheerful yet hubistic grin as he worded his response, finally lowering his free hand from his jaw to gesture towards the petite gamines sandals once again. "I've got a sister about your age, maybe a little younger, she's got those exact same sandals and got 'em real cheap, now considering it's a name brand the only way they could sell so low would be if they skimped on labour."

The sadistic anarchist was careful moderate both his language and tone; his current attire and actions cast him in the role of an uneducated male, one who, potentially, didn't even finish high school thus he limited his vocabulary to more simplistic and generic lexemes whilst maintaining the cheerful cadence of one who had seen the worst of life but naively believed things would be better if faced with a smile, if it happened to come across as arrogance then the former soldier would simply have to work around it as a sudden behavioral change at this point would arose the gamines suspicion and what he needed right now was trust.

‘But then I’d have to wait for it grow out and that takes time, there’s also the maintenance to consider, those things don’t just take care of themselves.’

“My cats, are neither here nor there. They are, in fact, lost and I am looking for them.”/color]

Hull sighed yet again as he lowered himself into a crossed legged position which put him below the insolent ingénue’s eye level, giving her the height advantage. A brief moment was then taken to shift the cooler by his side and adjust the miniature stereo on his shoulder, once certain that both items were arranged adequately the Canadian killer balanced an elbow upon his knee and once more grasped his chin with his hand as he leaned forward and stared intently at the child’s features once again, momentarily envisioning her with a black eye and broken nose before speaking in a positive yet incredulous tone. "Your looking for cats, on your own, in a city which looses over two hundred animals week and is full of muggers, murderers and other malicious individuals? Have I got that right?"

‘You know what, screw it, forget the goatee.’

Lowering his face into his hand Hull laughed lightly, his amusement stemming from a mixture of the adolescents callow naivety and his own good fortune. This was how horror stories began, you know the ones; they're shared at campfires, sleep over’s and other Halloween parties until, eventually, a more mild version of the tale is put in to use by parents in order to caution their children by pointing out the ignorance of others. In short, this was the kind of setting any psychotically inclined individual wished for, one which carried the potential for blood, pain and, ultimately, death.

Raising his emerald orbs from his hand the demented anarchist glanced briefly up at the gamines aggravated expression before allowing his gaze to flitter over to the crudely created posters to finally inspect the allegedly missing animals. The malevolent anarchists distorted mindscape had already construed a rather intuitive scheme the moment the asinine adolescent had mentioned her two strays, it required a leap of trust on the child’s part, however provided his next words were phrased correctly there would hopefully be little doubt in the ingénues mind on how to proceed.

“You know, I really should hand you over to the nearest police officer, let them take you down to the station and call your parents. I don’t really care how long you’ve had these two-” Hull’s free hand had once again been used in a gesturing motion, this time to place emphasis on his lack of concern for a pair of stray felines. As his viridian orbs swept over the two images before him though the sinister soldiers features assumed an expression of outright disbelief, “Well I’ll be damned that’s the godforsaken furry devil which tried to maul me a few minutes ago! Damn thing nearly clawed my pants to ribbons before it took off.”

Pausing suddenly Hull glanced back at the callow gamine before abruptly rising back to his full height, the unopened bottle of coke still clutched in one hand. Fixing the child with a resolute expression the malicious wanderer used his newly regained height to look down upon the youth before him as he spoke. “Alright, I’m fair guy so I’ll give you choice; either I drag you over to the nearest police officer and let them take you back home, or you let me help you find the bloody creature. I’ve already seen it and I know where it went, besides you’re too young to be looking on your own.”

>>>"It ain't gambling when you know you're right. I've got a sister ... blah blah ... same sandals ...blah... real cheap... blah blah blah... skimped on labour."

And he'd said she was wordy. The arrogance practically dripped off of his smile as he gestured again with his free hand. Katrina's eyes narrowed as she willed his stereo to a fall and meet its untimely demise on the hard ground. Unfortunately, she wasn't telekinetic, so the stereo remained where it was for now.

With a sigh, the obsidian haired punk sat himself down right on the grass. She hoped it was wet. Usually she didn't have such spiteful thoughts about people, but this guy was really getting annoying. Just because he was older, he assumed he knew everything. She may be a child, but she wasn't five. It was her turn to look down at him, as he pulled at his chin- as if he was wishing for his chin hairs to grow faster.

>>>"Your looking for cats, on your own, in a city which looses over two hundred animals week and is full of muggers, murderers and other malicious individuals? Have I got that right?"

Katrina shifted her feet. Actually, she hadn't thought about that before. Her eyes made a quick sweep of the park, spotting a mother and daughter having a picnic, a man curly haired taking his cockapoo for a walk, a pair of teens that didn't look much older than herself completely engrossed in each other, another couple walking with their hands clasped between them, and one idiot dressed in red and overburdened with belongings that were strapped to him like he was a pack horse. None of them looked like murderers or muggers. She didn't answer his question. At this point not answering was probably just as good as answering though, since she'd now neglected his question for a third time in a row.

>>>“You know, I really should hand you over to the nearest police officer, let them take you down to the station and call your parents. I don’t really care how long you’ve had these two-”

Maybe that would be a good id-- wait, why was he staring at her poster like that suddenly, like he couldn't believe that her drawing skills were so amazing or something.

>>>“Well I’ll be damned that’s the godforsaken furry devil which tried to maul me a few minutes ago! Damn thing nearly clawed my pants to ribbons before it took off.”

Calley! If only Calley had tried to shred the guys face instead of his pants- no, that wasn't nice. This guy had actually seen her friend that had been missing for two weeks. Her face brightened and she smiled for the first time since the viridian eyed coke pusher had first shown up. She should be grateful that providence had seen fit to place him in her path, even if he was an annoying piece of ... even if he wasn't the most pleasant person she had ever met.

He leaped back onto his feet, as if he was excited about the two cats, too.

>>> “Alright, I’m fair guy so I’ll give you choice; either I drag you over to the nearest police officer and let them take you back home, or you let me help you find the bloody creature. I’ve already seen it and I know where it went, besides you’re too young to be looking on your own.”

She wrinkled her nose, but then tried to erase the disdainful expression again. He was helping her, even if he was still being his annoying self while he did it. If she wanted to accept his aid, she'd have to take it bundled up with the slams about her age, the insults to her “pet”, the threats to turn her in to the authorities, and the haughty expressions, the condescending comments, and the annoying green eyes. It was a package deal.

“Okay, fine. Lead the way.”

Hull's face remained utterly somber as he silently watched and waited for the callow gamines response, inside however the twisted travaler was doing the equivalent of an asinine aureate victory pose. There was little doubt in the malicious wanderers mind that the conceited child would consent to following him throughout central park; he'd caught the hopeful expression which had flashed across her features when he'd claimed to have spotted one her contemptible creatures, verily children these days were far too naïve. They needed to be educated in the ways of world, taught that no matter how bad things seemed they could always get worse and, according to Murphy’s law, they usually did.

'What ever happened to the neighbourhood watch? Everybody looking out for everybody else, such an idyllic concept it, shame it hinged on people actually giving a crap about anyone besides themselves.'

As predicted, after another hubristic display of distaste made itself known upon the adolescents visage, the clueless little girl agreed to follow the Canadian killer throughout central park in hopes of locating one of her witless pets. The malicious marauder almost chuckled as he casually wasted a moment to dust down his flamboyant apparel; the ingénue’s anxiety was easily apparent to anyone who possessed even the slightest knowledge of human behavior and so the aberrant poisoner took no small amount of satisfaction from watching the child's impatience swiftly build upon itself. It was somewhat petty to be sure but that made it no less entertaining as the girls face gradually developed a crimson hue on par with that of his own garments. Sadly though he couldn't push her too far, not just yet anyways, so he abruptly the sinister wanderer straightened and cast his gaze about the park as though to get his bearings, in actuality however the former soldier was simply surveying his current audience, ensuring that no one had anything more than a passing interest in the blonde haired brat before him.

“Right, I was over that way when I ran into your little beast.” Hull deliberately gestured with the hand which still clutched the rejected bottled of coca cola indicating towards a heavily wooded area which, if taken, would convey the two of them to the upper right quadrant of the park, towards a modest body of water entitled Harlem Meer. “Stick close to me and don't go running off ahead, I don't want to lose sight of you.”

One of the many benefits of a photographic memory is that one is easily able to memorize any and all routes traveled or described. For a devoted anarchist this translated into learning the location and paths of every emergency service, power line, scrap yard/landfill and of course the sewer system. Considering the vast size of the city obtaining such data manually would have been quite the tedious task, conveniently however the government had already performed dreary legwork and so all it had taken was a single, somewhat prolonged, after hours visit to a government planning office to learn a collection of quite interesting facts; one of which was that the local sewer system had several access points running underneath central park near large bodies of water… such as Harlem Meer.

The only slight downside of the sinister slaughterers illicit topographical information was that the aforementioned access points had been rather vaguely mapped thus the former solider was forced to split his attention between keeping track of his young vict- charge, and searching for manholes. Fortuitously though he had no need to craft an explanation of his strange behavior as the dim witted child simply assumed the twisted traveler was searching for her stray pet. As the pair progressed through the sylvan area the trees began to cluster, shading the ground almost completely as they vied for the sun’s rays. Additional vegetation also began to prosper in the forms of bushes and shrubbery’s, all of which possessed quite a vivid array of blooms designed to contribute to the parks overall visual aesthetics, an unintentional consequence though was that the colorful verdure was precisely the right height to conceal certain blonde haired adolescents from view; a fact which proved to be most advantageous when Hull did at last locate one of the elusive manholes sequestered just a short distance from a memorial fountain.

A malevolent grin streaked across the malicious murderer’s features as he swiftly scanned the surroundings in search of any potential interruptions; police, parents, pets and any other pestiferous individuals. Lady luck however seemed to be in a favourable mood for the immediate area appeared to be abandoned, although the faint yapping of some canine or another could be heard somewhere off to the east just above the general background noise of birds and distant cars. Ordinarily one might be suspicious of such ideal conditions for a rather hastily concocted abduction, but then the deranged wanderer had learned over the years that one should never look a gift horse in the mouth, but should instead leap upon it and ride it to exhaustion before then possibly making use of the carcass for a light meal of some sort.

In any case now was not the time to delay.

“Psst! Over here!”

Crouched down furtively at the corner of the hedge which concealed the manhole Hull glanced expectantly at the imprudent ingénue who had briefly wandered away from his side to scout on her own. When he finally caught her eye the sadistic anarchist gestured impatiently with his free hand, indicating that the girl should join him as quickly and quietly as was possible. “I think I found the bugger, but I’d rather not wake him up, he’s already tried to maul me once already, so I’ll let you have the honours.”

Backing up slightly so that the ashen eyed child could take his place the foreign fiend waited until the gullible gamine had sneaked past him before rapidly rising the dejected soda bottle in his left hand while his right snake forward to grasp the child’s shoulder and hold her still as he brought the class container crashing down towards her skull.

Katrina shifted her weight forward and backward in her immobile sandals, effectively rocking back and forth in her impatience as the obnoxious Coca Cola representative labouriously dusted off the sleeves of his loud crimson raiments. She held her breath and counted to ten rather than make a sarcastic comment about snails or some other notoriously slow creature. Every second they wasted made the chance of actually finding her 'cat' slimmer and slimmer and it was already a pretty narrow margin of probability as it was. If he thought her face was turning red, it was either because he was imagining things or because the brief lack of oxygen flushed her cheeks slightly. She wasn't losing her temper with the carnelian clad oaf, not at all.

And what was this nonsense about not running off ahead of him? He was walking so slow! Veritably the calendar pages would have progressed to nearly the month of all winter holidays both secular and non by the time they even got halfway there if he walked any slower. Moss might even start growing on their backs like that of the dilatory sloth if she didn't help speed things along.

The energetic teen walked quickly ahead of the nettlesome salesman. As requested, she did not get so far ahead that she wandered out of his sight, but she did try to encourage him to pick up his pace. He had nice long legs, stork-like even; he should use their full potential. She swore he could have moonwalked backwards faster than he went down the path. Slow of mind, slow of foot.

They reached an area fraught with flowering vegetation and it took more time for her to check under bushes now that they were more dense. The man, too, seemed to be intent on looking around. His head swung back and forth as he either admired the view or searched for a glimpse of familiar looking fur.

Katrina had almost passed the fountain when she looked back to see the vexatious villain crouching and gesturing in her direction. Hurried over, hope and thankfulness written clearly on her young visage. She crouched over to peer under the bush. Was he certain this was the right spot? She felt a hand on her shoulder and started to turn, but pain erupted at the back of her skull and her vision faded to blackness.

**

The blackness pounded through her skull, and slowly the fledgling illusionist regained some sense of consciousness. It felt like swimming in a thick black soup. The waves lapped and splashed around her. She couldn't see, but she could feel, especially that pounding in the back of her head. She was rocked back and forth in the black tide, swaying like someone was cradling her in the upside down darkness. The hair that had fallen to cover her face swished back and forth softly.

Someone's shoulder pressed uncomfortably into her stomach as they carried her, though the disoriented girl couldn't quite puzzle out why he was walking on the ceiling. Before she had quite figured it out how that worked, she was deposited roughly on the hard ceiling and the world turned upside down so it was again the ground that she sat on.

She gasped very softly, as the world as it was became more clear to her. The small sound echoed back upon itself seemingly ten times louder than the initial sound had been. The blackness of the ocean around her did not diminish, but the thickness of it did as her brain righted itself. The waters became thinner and thinner until it was a mere haze clouding her mind. Curiously, the sound of running water did not quiet itself. The last thing she remembered, she had been looking for Calley, then there had been pain, and now she was in a very dark place. The floor was hard, and the wall against which she leaned was a rough brick texture. She was on a narrow walkway of some sort, with a wall on one side and a drop of unknown height on the other.

There was someone else here, too.

“Who is there,” she whispered to the darkness, afraid that it might actually answer. “Where am I?”

Entering the sewer had actually proven to be somewhat more difficult than the former soldier had initially anticipated, it hadn’t been due to any lack of skill or strength on the anarchists part but rather the fact tha a manhole is built for just that; a man, a single individual, not one attempting to carry a comatose child over his shoulder. Still the issue had been solved easily enough when the guileless girl had slipped from her precarious perch on the sinister traveler and fallen the eight or so feet down the length of the shaft into the sewer system beneath. The landing had not sounded particularly graceful but malicious couldn’t have cared less really as he deftly placed the manhole cover back in its proper place and climbed down into the pitch black tunnel.

Many people these days do not truly comprehend what pitch black means, all too often they think of the night sky or possibly some trite media production where the main character stumbles around awkwardly in a cave yet is perfectly illuminated for the sake of the viewer. Neither of these perceptions is at all accurate for both include some form of luminescence, either natural or synthetic which permits one some degree of visibility. If a setting is truly pitch black though then it is akin to being blind, you would be unable to see anything other than inky obsidian, even your very hand would remain invisible no matter how close you brought it. Therefore whenever one wishes to tour a sewer system it is imperative that they bring one of the following: some form of torch or, alternatively, night vision goggles. Fortuitously, due to his own natural talents Hull possessed both items as well as a good deal more.

Upon reaching the somewhat soiled floor of the desolate tunnel the Canadian killer nonchalantly flexed his argent fingers and a mere split second later they were wrapped around an ashen coloured torch which immediately spilled light down the length of the passageway, revealing a rather intriguing design which featured a horizontal beam approximately two feet wide running across the width of the tunnel at roughly waist height. The walkways on either side of the tunnel were of course elevated and a cursory glance at the water stained channel in the centre of the adit divulged that the sewage level was somewhat lower than usual. A host of pipes and wires also ran across the upper section of the concave ceiling and deranged poisoner was pleased to note that at least one of the wires possessed electrical insulation which immediately opened up an entire host of new possibilities for his diminutive toy.

Speaking of which where had the brat gotten to? She’d been unconscious when she’d fallen and it was unlikely the impact had done anything to change that. A brief assessment of his surroundings revealed that the child had somehow managed to roll a short distance after landing and had actually come to a rest behind him, another brief moment was spent examining senseless gamine; deftly placing a hand against her throat and then lifting the lids of her eyes with surgical precision to test the reaction of pupils under the harsh light of the torch. A sadistic smile swiftly swept across the slaughters features as he confirmed that the contemptuous child had avoiding any form of serious brain damage and thus she would be completely responsive when she finally returned to the land of the living.

It was no fun playing with human vegetables after all.

A groggy moan abruptly escaped the injured ingénues lips and Hull swiftly cut off the power to the torch. The deranged wanderer was uncertain how the girl would react to his presence or whether she would possess the presence of mind to implicate him for her current predicament, the last thing he wanted at this stage was for the girl to run; for although he had memorized the layout of the sewer system it would still be all too easy to lose graceless gamine in the dark should she escape his visual range, thus he waited in silence and di his best to gauge the child’s response with his other senses.

Sound was really all he had to work with and as the former soldier focused upon his hearing he was gradually able to distinguish minute sounds of movement above the ambient melody of flowing of water. It wasn’t much, the faint noise of cloth scraping against stone, or the sharp gasps of breath as immature lungs repeatedly filled and emptied, yet it was more than enough to cause the sinister anarchist to grin malevolently. The child was scared, not yet panicked no, but the fear was there; the slight sense of terror which comes whenever one faces something unknown, add that to an instinctual fear of darkness that nearly all humans possessed and it was clear that the little slip of a girl was anything but calm.

“Who is there? Where am I?”[/color] The words were whispered softly, hesitantly and it was all Hull could do not to chuckle at the trembling tone in her voice. He’d originally hoped the brat would remain comatose for a while longer until he could properly secure her but toying with her in this state could still be fun, besides it would require less effort on his part if the child was able to follow him instead of having to carrying her. She would, he thought with amusement, become the proverbial lamb walking to her own slaughter

Barely a foot away from the arrogant adolescent the continuous flow of running water allowed Hull to utterly mask his approach as he cautiously crept closer and reached out a hand for where he believed the girl to be and silently arced it around so that his hand would face the back of her shoulder, he paused for a fraction of a second; listening for any clue that the girl was aware of her presence before he swiftly poked her shoulder and snaked his arm away just as a terror filled shriek reverberated within the desolate confines of the tunnel and the gamine all but jumped a foot into the air eliciting a muffled laugh from the malicious murderer which was more than covered by the girls ongoing scream.

“Hey kid! Kid calm down!”

Infusing a note concern and authority into his own voice to override his humour the former soldier nearly shouted his words as the terrified gamine practically ran into him. Reflexively bracing himself against the side of the wall Hull placed a foot behind him in order to steady himself as his other hand tried to get a grip on the panicked child. “God dammit stop screaming! You fell down an open manhole and we’re in the sewers, now I need you to calm down so we can get outta here ok?”

She poked the darkness with her voice and lo, the darkness poked back. Katrina had never been so freaked in her life, except for maybe her first night in the mansion when the place had been attacked by police officers looking for mutants to round up and stay in the camps. She hadn't screamed then, not even when she was hiding under the bed and and someone came into the room. Not even when they knelt down next to the bed. Not even when they had looked under the bed right at her and somehow hadn't seen her. She had prayed to be invisible, and invisible she had become.

That was then, and this was now. The darkness had poked her and she had screamed. The cop had never known she was there, but the darkness already knew exactly where she was and no amount of jumping up and pressing herself into the wall was going to make her disappear any more than she already had. The darkness only laughed at her, and to Katrina's ears the chuckle was more menacing than any super villain laughter she'd ever heard in the movies.

Then the darkness spoke. It spoke in a human's voice that was both familiar and annoying. The familiarity was because the voice belonged to the Coke pusher who was supposed to be bringing her to her cat and instead had brought her somewhere else. The annoyance came from the fact that she already thought the guy was a jerk, now he was a jerk who had heard her screaming for no reason. She clamped her mouth shut again somewhere between “God dammit” and “you fell down an open manhole”. At some point he had grabbed her arm, she twisted her shoulder away to make him let go.

There was a problem with his story. There hadn't been an open manhole and more than there had been a cat under that bush in the park. There still was no open manhole above her now, no comforting circle of light above her to illuminate the sewers or to show where she had fallen like Alice down a rabbit hole. And while there were plenty of creepy disembodied voices down here, none of them belonged to any cats. No, she wasn't going to follow this white rabbit any farther.

Without another word, she made herself as invisible as she could, erasing all traces of herself from vision and hearing. Her footsteps became more silent than a cat's and her camouflage more perfect than a chameleon's. She took about ten steps away from him using the wall as a guide, then stopped to listen to what he would do.

When was the last time he’d laughed so hard? Had it been when he’d released that pack of half starved dogs into the elementary school? No, not quite; maybe it had been when he’d flooded his high school science room with oxygen mere minutes ahead of the professors demonstration, the man had always complained about not possessing a tan you see. Then there was the time he’d trapped his CO at the bottom of a well during the rainy season, the asinine little man had asked for a rope yet failed to specify what it should be attached to... it had been immensely amusing to listen to his officers cries when the man had closed the grate of the well on top of himself as the water level steadily rose. And of course not to be forgotten was the time he’d managed to create his own version of Greek fire in a hospital just as they finished renovating their sprinkler system… heh, good times but still none had quite the same elements as this particular episode; he’d barely touched the brat but her reaction had been priceless, he’d have to get her to do it again.

Blinking silently in the utter darkness of the sewer the merciless murderers hand stretched outwards slightly, only to find that the spot the child had occupied a moment ago had been replaced with all too empty air. Needless to say this raised a few issues; primarily how had the kid managed to sneak off without making a sound? She’d been all but scared out of her wits less than ten seconds ago and now she was tiptoeing blindly down a sewer? An aggravated sigh left the sinister slaughters lips as his thumb hovered over the switch on his torch. ‘What happened to the good old days where little girls were nothing more than damsels in distress entirely incapable of independent thought or action? Guess I’ll just have to teach the brat a new meaning to women’s suffrage.’

With a flick of his thumb the cavernous depths of the onyx tunnel were once again illuminated throwing everything into sudden clarity as the light reflected off the filth encrusted walls and spilled over the obsidian currents below, inexplicably however the torches rays failed to reveal the blonde haired child who’d been thrown into the sewers depths mere minutes ago. Indeed the tunnel seemed utterly absent of life and viridian eyes blinked once again as the former soldier processed this unexpected conundrum. The brat was here somewhere, this much the anarchist was certain of, he’d held her not 30 seconds ago and the next nearest manhole was just over a mile away; there was no conceivable way the girl could have slipped without alerting him therefore rationality dictated that she’d simply run off beyond the lights reach. It was a most interesting reaction to be sure for it implied that the child had somehow managed to discern the wanderer’s malevolent nature and immediately attempted to flee.

Still there was no real cause for worry just yet, the Canadian killer had traversed these tunnels before, the path was fairly linear for some distance yet and filled with a myriad of obstacles which would no doubt slow the girl down and sap her energy, and when that ran out… well, the fun could begin in earnest, until then though there was a hunt to be had; he’d allow the child to run for now, exhaust herself building up some distance, grant her the illusion of hope just so he could have the pleasure of tearing it away. However, first things first, there appeared to be specks of crimson dotting the otherwise smoke coloured cement. Hull’s brow rose as he crouched down and swept his fingers through the scarlet streaks momentarily testing their consistency before a low, menacing chuckle ripped through his throat.

‘She even left me a trail to follow, looks like we’ll have a proper game of hare and hounds.’

Straightening up to his full height once more the former soldier shone his light directly down the length of the tunnel while his free hand summoned a somewhat worn yet razor sharp switchblade which slipped out of the handle with a highly metallic and audible *Schnick* as the malicious poisoner began to move forward at a pace which was faster than a walk but far from a run.


“The bleeding little girly tried to run away,
Ran-”

The murderer’s inane jingle came to end before it ever truly started as the rather solid sound of flesh colliding with concrete echoed dimly over the noise of the current below and female figure abruptly appeared out of thin air bent at the waist over one of the concrete pillars which stretched horizontally across the tunnel. For a split second Hull simply stared at the sight before him, his deranged mind not quite comprehending what had just occurred, a moment later however a pained groan from the girl before brought the sadistic slaughter back to the present, causing him to race forward and plant his forearm across the child’s back effectively pinning her down even as he brought his arm across the adolescents shaking neck and deftly cut off the girl’s air supply, remaining unyielding as gamines struggles momentarily grew in intensity before inevitably ceasing as darkness once again took hold of her.

Having already lost the brat once Hull possessed no desire to chase after her again, there were only so many hours in a day after all and he did have other things to do, thus the moment the child passed into unconsciousness the former soldier worked swiftly, moving with a practiced air as he deftly flipped the girl onto her stomach and shifted her comatose form so that she lay lengthwise across the concrete column. Precious seconds were then spent withdrawing and uncoiling bungee cords which were then used to secure the senseless child’s lower limps, hips and finally her arms which were locked above her head. Only once the adolescent had been firmly fastened to the makeshift table did the malevolent anarchists actions begin to slow down as he stepped away and examined his handiwork, momentarily testing the slack in the cords and reassuring himself that they were beyond the girls meager strength before then turning his attention to the lines of wires and pipes which ran across the roof of the tunnel.

A few renovations were in order.

Ten steps away and he was still laughing, then twenty. She started to hurry; her hand following the rough and sometimes wet wall. Her feet she tried to keep as close to the wall as possible. In the darkness there was no way to know how narrow the pathway was. Then the laughing stopped, which was ten times more creepy than before when she knew where her kidnapper was, for he was a kidnapper for bringing her down here and she couldn't figure out why he wanted her. She didn't really want to know, she just wanted to get out again.

Pounding; her heart, her head, and her feet beat in an erratic rhythm like a middle school percussion ensemble that hadn't quite learned to play together. A giant shadow suddenly leaped up in front of her. Katrina instinctively froze. It was a flickering grey ghost barely alive in the faintest of glowing lights. It was a thin scarecrow without a face or a real body., only a shape that resembled a sad frightened girl stretched out like the poor victim of the ancient stretching rack. It was her own shape, her own shadow there.

The light from behind was a small beacon for trouble, held aloft by the black haired merchant. He was following her. Even such a small light burned her eyes after her few minutes in the dark. It had been a mistake to look back, because now she couldn't see anything to the front, even with the slightest illumination. The darkness loomed, her head spun, the voice behind her chanted.

>>>“The bleeding little girly tried to run away; Ran-”

Run she did. There was no way on earth or any other planet she was sticking around to wait and hear the end of that rhyme. She still tried to keep her hand on the wall, but her footsteps hurried much faster now. They seemed so loud, even though she knew only she could hear them. She...

Something large and rectangular slammed into her torso and she fell, doubled over. The ground was just as hard as the...whatever she had run into. She rolled to her side, pressing against her head with one hand and her stomach with the other. Oww, double oww, and fireflies floating around in her vision. And one miniature sun bouncing toward her.

She gasped as something pressed against her neck. She couldn't breathe, and clawed at whatever it was that was pressing against her windpipe. An arm. It was holding a flashlight and choking her at the same time. The light pointed at the ceiling made the face above a silhouette without any features save for the twin flashes of his green eyes. She struggled; kicking, grabbing, scratching, pushing, nothing released the tension against her neck and within moments the green eyes, the silhouette, the arched ceiling, all was swimming in darkness again.

--

This time when she woke, it was to a white fog instead of a black one. The cold concrete pressed against her face and stomach. She tried to push herself upright, but any efforts to move were hindered by tight cords. It took her a moment to realize that she was restrained. No matter how she tried to move, she couldn't. Her eyelids fluttered open, but she couldn't see clearly. There was a bright light somewhere and someone was moving things around.

“Nhn?” She didn't understand and the puzzle pieces were not fitting themselves back together very quickly.

It truly was amazing what a little rudimentary DIY knowledge could achieve in today’s world; technology could achieve wonders that would not even have been imagined half a century ago. Infrastructure alone had come leaps and bounds compared to what it was a mere decade ago, in spite of this though some things never change; politicians were still corrupt, famine continued to plague the world issue and sewers remained desolate walkways, traversed only by the downtrodden and the amoral. A fact which caused the anarchistic traveler no small amount of satisfaction as his venomous gaze traversed the filth stained walls revealed by the fractured beams of light emanating from the discarded torch atop the concrete bridge. A single glance told the malevolent murderer all he needed, the various grime and fauna adorning the concave walls only reached chest height; a dangerous level to be sure and one that indicated the city’s sewer system was beginning to strain under the sheer size of the population. Still such an issue wasn’t the poisoner’s problem, it would require a significant level of rainfall for the turpid tunnel to reach anything near capacity and the forecast had called for clear skies.

“Well now, what’s this?”

The twisted wanderers cadence conveyed a clear undercurrent of cheerfulness as his argent fingers summoned another illumination device and adroitly directed the new beam of light towards what could, at a stretch, be deemed the right corner of the tunnel. A moderately thick length of wiring appeared to run the entire length of the channel, at this particular section however a retarded rodent was doing its best to chew through the protective obsidian casing around the line, indeed the vulgar vermin was so set in its task that it took no heed of the light cast upon it, nor the malevolent slaughter as he silently approached with an expression of mild interest dancing across his sinister visage as he waited for the inevitable conclusion…

“Shocking.”

The datum was uttered in a tone of quotidian ennui which was completely at odds with the very meaning of the lexeme, indeed the very air which surrounded the malicious wanderer conveyed a sense of floccinaucinihilipilification directed towards the asinine rodent which now lay twitching upon the cool cement of the tunnel floor. The creature, upon closer inspection was also sporting what could, at length, be termed a bad hair day mixed with an aroma of charred flesh which was just barely distinguishable from the odious stench which permeated the sewer system which caused the deranged traveler to shake his head wearily as silver tipped fingers reached out.

“The Brain you are not, still there may be some use to you yet Pinky.”

…

As was previously mentioned a basic knowledge of DIY skills can do wonders for the intrinsic appeal of a location; electrical engineering in particular can do wonders in the correct setting, why with the right tools one can transform even a dilapidated sewer tunnel into a far more practical abode. Hull proceeded to do precisely that; working with nimble hands as he donned a pair of rubber gloves and carefully divided the copper wire into strands which were then haphazardly spliced into the wiring of an ashen power strip. Admittedly it was a somewhat perfunctory effort but the former soldier wasn’t seeking a standing ovation for his efforts, that could come later though, for now all the demented poisoner desired was access to an electrical outlet in order to utilize his more modern equipment.

The moment the cannibalized power strip indicated a power reading the inauspicious wanderer set to work conjuring items from his internal inventory in the manner of a macabre Mary Poppins; a soldering iron, carving pen and automatic drill were just a handful of the objects summoned and placed atop a stained metallic tray beside a slightly disfigured yet malleable floor lamp which was soon twisted and arced until its rays rained downed upon the restrained female form on the impromptu operating table. Shadows danced for a brief moment as light battled against shadows and threw into sudden clarity the pale yellow of the adolescent’s sundress which reached down to just below her knees and blended almost seamlessly with the child’s blonde locks which fell to the middle of her back. Apart from that single item of apparel the girl was completely bare, the alabaster sandals which had previously encased the gamines feet had been removed and discarded when the vindictive traveler had first bound his victims limbs.

“Nhn?”[/color]

Hull’s head snapped upwards and twisted to glance over his shoulder as the mumbled moan reached his keen ears; it seemed his plaything was finally beginning to stir. The former soldier remained hunched over his tools a moment longer, absently rearranging the devices into a more convenient order and placed the metallic tray at the edge of the walkway before abruptly leaping feet first into the flowing current of raw sewage, an act which likely would have left an uninformed audience wondering about the man’s sanity, Hull however had no such concerns; he’d long since ceased any attempts to describe his thought processes by so called “conventional” means and additionally it had been over ten years since he’d last suffered from any kind of illness and thus, rightly or wrongly, the twisted traveler had arrived at the conclusion that his mutation somehow made him immune to such ailments.

“Ah, welcome back, did you enjoy your nap? I would have woken you sooner but I didn’t want to leave you waiting as I got everything ready. Don’t worry though, the fun shall begin shortly.”

The statement was issued in the all too friendly tone of one who is about to significantly enjoy themselves at another’s expense, normally such a cadence would be a clear tocsin to any within earshot of the issuers ill intent, however in Hull’s case the words were not a warning but a promise, a statement of fact which only served to supplement the sinister ambience of the sewer system turned torture chamber.

Standing up to his shins in raw sewage the malicious anarchist was pleasantly surprised to find that the concrete bridge and impromptu table came to just below his ribcage, allowing him a greater freedom of movement that he had originally anticipated as he bent over the supine child and gave her bonds a cursory tug to assure himself of their effectiveness, the former soldier may have been twisted and sadistic but he was rarely careless when it came to activities such as these. He’d already had to chase the child down once after all and he was in no mood to do so again anytime soon. There was, coincidentally, an ulterior motive to such an action; for as the truculent traveler leaned over to test the adolescents restraints his lips came within close proximity of the girls ear allowing him to whisper forth an introduction in a soft intimate tone which had absolutely no place in such a setting.

“Now then my dear, before we begin I’d like to get your name. My own is not important but for…posterity’s sake, it would be, helpful, to have yours… do you understand?”

When the trembling child failed to respond immediately the slaughter’s demeanor instantly shifted; the polite visage abandoned for one of implacable impatience as he drew his viridian eyes down to stare into the girls own ashen orbs with a sinister sneer on his features even as his right hand stretched out towards the metallic off to the side and deftly retrieved the tan soldering iron from its spiral sheath and firmly brought the device down upon the gamines bound hand, leaving it there for a count of five, utterly unmoved by the child’s futile protests as she vainly attempted to withdraw her limb. When at last the soldering iron was replaced the malevolent torturer drew in a breath and produced a handkerchief from thin air and deftly wiped away the adolescents tears with the softest of strokes before continuing.

“I hadn’t intended to use that quite so soon, but I’m afraid you forced my hand, tsk tsk, not getting off to a very good start are we? Let’s try that again shall we puppet? What is your name?”

This time the response was delivered promptly, or what could pass for promptly in between the shuddering breaths which rocked the child’s fragile frame and Hull grinned viciously for they’d barely even started, still there was a part to be played and he couldn’t have the girl abandon all hope just yet, so instead the sadistic wanderer knelt back down into the adolescents view and offered her a simple grin. “A very charming name, I shall do my best to remember it. Now though, it’s time to begin.”

Straightening up once again the former soldier took his time selecting a tool from the tray on his right, argent fingers trailed delicately along across handles and along blades as the sinister anarchist ensured that each item rattled audibly within the confines of cave, for although the child could not see the implements he was about to use she could most certainly hear and often times a child’s imagination could work to craft a terror even he would be hard pressed to match. At length though the twisted traveler selected a utility knife from the collection before leaning back over shivering girl and sweeping a hand lightly up her back, gently parting her blonde hair so that it fell on either side of shoulder instead of covering them. The sight which met the murderers emerald gaze however was not what he had expected for a scarlet trail of partially dried blood extended down from somewhere on the back of the adolescents head to her shoulder blades.

“Oh no, this won’t do, I won’t be able to see what I’m doing, ah well least said soonest mended.”

And with that remorseless remark the Canadian killer swept up the entirety of the gamines golden locks in one hand and roughly pulled the girls hair as high as her neck would allow while his other hand meanwhile extended the length of the utility knife and haphazardly slicing through the aureate strands in a short choppy motion which left the child with less than two inches at the back of her head and a rather significant collection of locks in the former soldiers left hand which were idly released and allowed to drift down and join the rest of city sewage flowing below.

A wet cloth was then applied to the back of the adolescents neck and swept smoothly up to the base of her head and then down to her shoulder blades where it paused briefly, allowing water to pool slightly and trail down the length of the child’s spine. Then there was a barely audible click as the utility knife was retracted to a more suitable length and an instant later cold steel scratched ever so slightly against the soft skin of the girl’s back a hairs breadth above the sundress where it swiftly danced left and then right; easily severing the straps on each shoulder before then returning to the middle of the girls back and swept southwards, effortlessly slicing through the lightweight material as the blade trailed down to the base of the adolescents back.

The meddlesome material was then brushed to either side and the child’s upper under garment dismissed in a similar manner so that nothing was left between the skin on the girls back and the blade in the slaughterers hand except for open air, and even that did not last long as the former soldier brought his knife to bear against the gamines pale skin directly above her right shoulder blade, piercing the skin ever so slightly as a trickle of blood welled up from the wound where the blade was poised.

“Tell me Katrina, do you know why you’re here?”

The lights were much brighter than they were before. Katrina blinked trying to clear the fog around her mind. The puzzle pieces started falling back into place. The park, the missing Calley, the coke vendor, the sewer...

>>>“Ah, welcome back, did you enjoy your nap? I would have woken you sooner but I didn’t want to leave you waiting as I got everything ready. Don’t worry though, the fun shall begin shortly.” 

... the choking. Katrina's lungs instinctively filled themselves with as much air as they could. The air rasped roughly through her bruised throat, but the extra oxygen helped to clear her head even more. She had to get out of here. She wriggled and pulled, but the ties that bound her showed no signs of even loosening. Her heart was in her throat as she realized she couldn't escape. Turning invisible or any other illusion had no power over the reality of being tied up.

Green eyes and haughty visage appeared in her vision, bent over to be parallel to her own. Katrina furrowed her eyebrows at him. She didn't like him one bit. He tugged on her restraints too, but he was more satisfied than she had been at the outcome of the test.

>>>“Now then my dear, before we begin I’d like to get your name. My own is not important but for…posterity’s sake, it would be, helpful, to have yours… do you understand?”

She saw no reason to share her name with a kidnapper. It was creepy and... his face contorted into one of extreme impatience with her lack of answer. She opened her mouth and started to say a name, just to spite him.

“Gladysss,” the name turned into a his of pain as something small and very hot was pressed into her open palm. Her automatic reaction was to try and jerk her hand away, but the restraints held her fast no matter how hard she wriggled against them. All she could do was try to ball her fingers into a fist, which resulted in her two middle knuckles also getting burnt. She gasped and tears came involuntarily to her eyes as the burning hot pressure continued. Just because she had given him an obviously fake name?

Then, as suddenly as he had begun it, he pulled the heat away from her hand again. Katrina protectively balled her hand into a fist, applying pressure to the stigmata that still burned even though it wasn't still burning. The slight pressure relieve only a little bit of the neural impulses that screamed their way to her brain and made silent tears well up in her eyes.

The malicious torturer brandished a white cloth like a magician who had just performed a particularly impressive trick and wiped the moisture from her eyes for her with the most tender of hands.

>>>“I hadn’t intended to use that quite so soon, but I’m afraid you forced my hand, tsk tsk, not getting off to a very good start are we? Let’s try that again shall we puppet? What is your name?”

Her breaths still came in shuddering gasps and they still burned her throat, but the pain of that now seemed so trivial. The viridian eyes were back with an insidious grin. She shivered, not just from the cold of the concrete and the chilly sewer air.

“Ka... Katrin...a,” she gasped her real name, unable to think of any other fake ones that could sound even faintly realistic.

>>>“A very charming name, I shall do my best to remember it. Now though, it’s time to begin.”

His voice sounded so kind when he wanted it to be. He could be someone's grandson and they would never know what he did when he went out for evenings on the town. At least, she assumed he had done this before; one didn't just have ropes and hot pokers and flashlights stashed in the sewer unless they wanted to be ready to use them.

Her own ragged breathing was settling down again and it wasn't difficult to hear the clattering of various tools. She couldn't see what he was doing, but had a feeling it couldn't be good. She held in a whimper. She didn't want to know what he was doing, yet not knowing what he had prepared for her next was somehow worse.

Ever so gently he pushed her hair out of the way. Katrina flinched at the touch of his hands, though they didn't hurt her this time.

>>>“Oh no, this won’t do, I won’t be able to see what I’m doing, ah well least said soonest mended.”

He gathered up all of her hair and pulled it upwards. The hairs that were connected to the injured part of her scalp protested the treatment, but the didn't have long to worry as they were soon freed from the upward pressure by a sudden slice of a knife. The loss of her hair was more confusing than shocking. Why did he do these things? How could he alternate so easily between burning her hand and wiping her tears? What reason did he have for cutting her hair or all things? Was he crazy?

She shivered again as a cold rag wiped at the back of her neck. Cold trails of water trickled their way across her skin. Her hand and head and throat still hurt, but the cold of the cloth was as gentle as her mother's touch. Why?

The knife blade clicked again and Katrina tensed, unsure of what he would do with it next. She was prepared to feel its sting anywhere, or thought she was. Instead of cutting her, though, he slowly cut away her dress followed by her undergarments. She bit her lip. Was that what he had planned for her? All this was part of some sick fetish of his?

She was even colder now. Goosebumps raised across her skin and she shivered without ever a thin layer of cloth to cover her. Finally he brought the steel blade to shoulder blade and pressed down. She inhaled through her teeth as it started cutting through her skin. At least she knew where to expect the pain from.

>>>“Tell me Katrina, do you know why you’re here?” 

“No.” She tried to sound brave, but that one word contained more of her fear than she had meant it to contain.